


Across Many Miles

by Meldanya



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/F, when we were young
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 08:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meldanya/pseuds/Meldanya
Summary: The first time Mac tries to ski, it doesn't go as planned.





	Across Many Miles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/gifts).



> I meant to write this for GaslightGallows as a birthday fic, but, well, life happened, so it's a New Year's fic instead <3 A little Mac/Rosie drabble to see out 2017 with. (

The wind slammed the door shut behind the two girls. "I don't want to come to the mountains ever again, Rosie, if it means dealing with this!"

"You just think that because you fell over so much, Beth." Her companion was shaking the snow out of her coat.

"Well, I haven't been doing this from childhood like some people." Beth shucked her wet things off and headed off towards the fire.

"You just need to come up here next summer with me and practice." Rosie carefully hung up the wet garments.

Beth gave a snort of derision and started combing her frozen hair. "Ugh, I wish mother would just let me cut my hair off,” she groaned, as her fingers got caught in the tangles.

”Like Irene Castle?" Rosie came over and gentle took over with the wet mass of red curls. "That would be interesting ... But I like your hair, Beth. I can't imagine with you without this."

 _Easy for you to say._ Beth glanced at her friend’s sleek brown hair, as Rosie somehow managed to gently detangle Beth’s own sodden mess. Only a few strands had been shaken loose by the wind, gently framing her pink cheeks.

"There, that's better. I'll get a brush to finish you off, and then let’s make some cocoa.” Rosie’s nimble fingers stroked Beth’s shoulders.

 _That sounds heavenly_ , Beth thought while saying, "I'm never letting you drag me up here again, Rosie."

"You'll be in Europe! You need to know how to ski." Her friend laughed as she padded off to the kitchen for the cocoa.

* * *

 

"I should be practicing" murmured Rosie, as they cuddled by the fire drying Beth's hair, their mugs of cocoa polished off.

Beth snapped out of her reverie on the feel of her friend next to her. "Hmm? Oh, yes, that ruddy recital."

"It's in a week and I still haven't memorized my piece."

"At least it's not Beethoven," Beth teased.

"Never Beethoven again! Not after I went to pieces last time."

"You recovered, once you had your music in front of you. You were so wonderfully poised, even through the midst of forgetting your piece!"

Rosie groaned and buried her head deeper in Beth's shoulder. "God, I wish you were going to be at this recital. It'll feel strange not having you make faces at me in the audience."

Beth swallowed. She hadn't even begun to grapple with how hard this would be. "I know. ... And you'll soon have to do every recital without me."

Rosie didn't respond, but just poked the fire silently.

Beth dropped a light kiss on her friend's hair. "I'll be back, Rosie, I'll be back in a few summers, and you can try to kill me with this skiing nonsense again."

That got a smile from Rosie; Beth laughed and pulled her closer.

* * *

 

The party was interminable. Beth felt that she'd never forgive her mother for throwing her farewell party on the same night as the recital. It almost felt deliberate; her mother had never liked Rosie.

"Yes, we're so proud of our Elizabeth."

Beth had to roll her eyes at her mother's boasting, like she hadn't fought Beth’s education every step of the way. She glanced at the clock -- fifteen more minutes and she could get away to the recital; the last one she would see before leaving Australia.

* * *

Getting across town had been a disaster, and Beth’s heart sunk when she got to the hall. People were gathering bags and coats to leave; she had missed it. She’d missed Rosie’s piece.

Her girl was across the room, looking as grownup as she could get away with, with her hair bundled in a very low knot at the nape of her neck. She was wearing blue; Rosie always looked so good in blue.

Beth started to cross the hall to greet her, but then she heard Rosie’s laugh and noticed who she was talking to. A young man leaned against the piano, fumbling through sheets of music while talking enthusiastically. Beth didn’t want to interrupt. She put her coat back on and went back to her mother’s party.

* * *

Beth never did get more information on that young man; their goodbyes at the ship were too hurried for confessions. Rosie's letters, when they started arriving weeks later, were awfully full of a man named Jack. Beth found herself skimming her letters instead of reading them; she wanted information about her Rosie, not this Jack fellow.

When Rosie wrote of her engagement to Jack, Beth could only write a short congratulatory note in reply. It was cold, she knew it was too cold for the occasion, but she couldn’t think of what else to say besides the formalities. “I hope you will be very happy.”

The correspondence dwindled, and then stopped. And then the war started.

* * *

It was many summers before she made it home again. She had learned how to ski, and ski quite well, although not well enough to avoid getting conked on her head when on holiday with Phryne Fisher. She really should have learned by now.

Phryne’s holiday party was in full swing, the drinks were flowing, but Mac’s head was still swimming. She took it slower than normal, enjoying Jane’s antics with the mistletoe.

There was a gentle knock at the door; Mac leaned back and closed her eyes, she really wasn’t ready for more people. She should go soon to nurse her head.

The room lapsed into a quiet awkwardness with the visitor’s arrival, and Mac opened her eyes.

"Beth?"

It was Rosie.


End file.
